Till the Last Call
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: The team celebrates a break in Jane's case by having a night out.


_**A/N** : I have a lot of feelings about the Reade/Zapata friendship. And about normal happiness for this team in general. Their world's too bleak. So, here's some fluff. This story's set early in a somewhat non-canon s1. Please enjoy. :)_

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It's rare that they catch breaks in Jane's case. It is even rarer that they catch breaks without any bloodshed, but today—today must've been some sort of miracle. They now have four suspects in custody, two requisitioned apartments full of information pertaining to her past, her case, her—as the suspects called it, her _mission—_ and after a week of interrogations, they've even got a few more leads. They might actually be able to do this, might actually be able to figure out where Jane came from and why and where to go next.

But all that can be sorted out on Monday.

Today, it's Friday, and tonight, they're celebrating.

They started at a too-loud bar downtown that blasted music and served halfway-decent shots (for a halfway-decent price), and they got as close to drunk as any of them had been in months. When they tired from shouting at each other over the music, they moved onto another bar—Tasha's choice—one with better food, where they ate nachos and wings and tested Jane's tolerance of all different kinds of alcohol and appetizers and until Kurt finally interrupted and reminded them all that she wasn't their alien guinea pig to play with. They'd all booed him away, Jane included, and then she bravely tried a couple more drinks and even some fried pickles, and then they laid off a bit. When they were ready to move onto the next bar, Reade and Weller yelled down Patterson's choice—they were _not_ going to a karaoke bar—and said Jane should get first pick anyway. It was, after all, her they were celebrating.

She had blushed a bit at the attention—all the eyes on her—and in the end, all she said was, "Maybe somewhere quieter," and Reade had smiled, saying he knew exactly the place.

He led the long way uptown, letting the cool night air wash as much sobriety as it could into them. Zapata and Patterson walked behind him, arms linked, bursting out in giggling fits every few seconds, and behind them, Kurt and Jane brought up the rear, leaning in close against the cold. More than once, Reade glanced over his shoulder to check that no one had fallen behind and had noticed the two whispering to each other and laughing about something or other. He had smiled and quickly turned back ahead, happy to give them their privacy—and grateful that Zapata was too occupied with Patterson to notice. The last thing they needed was her smug attention—she'd been making predictions about when they'd get together for months; Reade had heard whispered she even had a pool going about it.

It's a little after midnight AM by the time they finally arrive at Reade's choice, and he holds the door for them all, gesturing that they should go in and find a seat wherever they can. They end up squeezing into a booth by the front window, the only open spot left, just as the band in the back starts up for its next set. Reade smiles when he catches the look of wonder on Jane's face as she peers across the bar to catch sight of the group on the small stage set back in the far end of the room.

"Don't see much live music, do you?" he asks.

She shakes her head, too absorbed in the sound of the drums and the horns and the guitar to look him in the eye. He watches her a moment more before turning to Zapata.

"You know," he begins casually, sliding out of the booth and getting to his feet. "I _did_ ask them to play something special..."

The rise of the saxophone in the background betrays his intentions, and Tasha closes her eyes at the sound, shaking her head back and forth in denial. "No. You didn't..."

She remembers the song well, from the first undercover mission they'd ever had together. Her and Reade had been tasked with slipping their way into a high society wedding to get close to the criminal newlyweds, and this was one of the songs they'd danced to, trying to prove themselves the perfect couple to trust.

"Edgar, you little punk," Tasha says, but she's smiling.

Reade smiles too, and with a bow of his head, he offers his hand. "Zapata, may I have this dance?"

She sighs heavily, her entire frame sinking with exaggerated annoyance. "Fine," she says a second later, slipping out of the booth behind him. "But only so long as I get to lead this time, got it?"

Reade grins, taking her hand and pulling her close. "Not a chance."

She surrenders to it with a roll of her eyes, leaving the rest of the team to laugh at them from their booth. Jane still looks half-confused, and Reade tips his head at Kurt and Patterson, saying, "They'll explain," as he leads Zapata to the small dance floor where a few other couples are already swaying to the music.

For a minute or two, he keeps an eye on them, watching as Patterson and Kurt take turns telling the story of his and Zapata's first undercover mission. It ended successfully—thank God—but not without a fair bit of mishaps on their part. He and Zapata had known each other barely three months when that mission came around, and having to pose as a happy couple had not been the easiest assignment. Reade had to practically drag Zapata onto the dance floor, but it had been the right move. They'd gotten close to the newlywed couple, had ingratiated themselves far enough into their little circle so as not to be suspected. And then they'd simply waited for the right time to pounce on the information they'd gathered.

As the music mellows into the middle section, Zapata moves closer, and Reade smiles as she rests her head on his right shoulder. He remembers a time when he'd had to order her to do that, to play up their fake romance. Now she does it of her own accord, and though it'd be easy to tease her, he's feeling too good about work, too good about life, to make fun of even Zapata. They turn for a minute in silence, and when he glances back over to the table, he sees Patterson's gone. He frowns for a second, before he spots her blonde head out front; she's pacing on the sidewalk in front of the bar, talking to someone on the phone.

When he looks back to the table, there Jane and Kurt are still there, sitting on opposite sides now, and Reade barely holds back from rolling his eyes. It's obvious from the way Jane keep glancing in Kurt's direction that she'd rather they weren't sitting apart, and from the way she watches the couples on the far side of the bar, it's also obvious that she'd _much_ rather be dancing with him than sitting. Reade offers her the best smile of encouragement he can muster, wishing very much that he could slap some sense into Kurt at the same time. But like most things, he supposes, Kurt and Jane will figure themselves out at their own pace, not anyone else's.

He leads Zapata a little further down the length of the bar, hoping to give them a bit of privacy so they won't feel as watched. When there's a twist in the music, he spins out Zapata, and she smiles, laughing at the unexpected change. As he draws her back in, she leans her head against his shoulder again. For a couple minutes they're silent, and Reade keeps his attention on the band as they shift from one song into another.

When he next chances a glance back at the booth where Jane and Kurt had been sitting, he grins, laughing quietly to himself at what he sees there. Zapata starts to ask what's so funny, but he just shakes his head.

When she presses, he refuses: "It's nothing. But just do me a favor, and don't turn around, okay?"

"What? Why?" She opens her eyes, starting to lift her head from Reade's shoulder, but he deftly maneuvers her away before she can see. "What is it?" she asks, trying again to peer over his taller back, only to have him twist her out of the way. "Hey!" She squeezes his shoulder hard with her left hand. "What are you hiding from me?"

"Shh," he whispers. Jane and Kurt haven't yet noticed anyone watching yet, and he doesn't want Zapata butting into their moment. But he also knows Tasha won't stop in her hunt until she has a morsel to chew on, so he decides to throw her a bone and says quietly, "Weller finally made a move. Or—maybe Jane did. I can't tell. They're kissing, though."

Zapata's over-excited _What?!_ is thankfully drowned out by a rise in the music, and before she can spin around to see, Reade positions her in the opposite direction, complaining that if she sees, she'll start yelling, and then she'll ruin everything for everyone.

She mutters an argument—"I don't ruin _everything."_ —but she allows herself to be cut off, if just for the moment. Of course she has her own caveat to add.

"If I can't turn around, then you're going to have to describe it to me. Is there tongue? Who's getting handsy?"

"Zapata!"

"Are they naked yet? Is she in his lap?"

"Zapata." Reade's voice is more annoyed than outraged at this point. "Come on. Quit it."

"Hey, if you aren't going to let me watch, you're going to have to give me a decent play-by-play. It's only fair."

"They're kissing; let's leave it at that, okay?"

Tasha shakes her head. "Such a prude," she complains.

"I'm respecting their privacy."

"Privacy? They're in the middle of a crowded bar!"

"Will you let them have their moment, please?"

Tasha groans, depositing her head back on his shoulder a little harder than necessary. "Ugh, fine. They get a moment. But then—"

"Don't you _dare_ tease them about this, Zapata. Not tonight. Come on, give them a break. It's been a hard couple months."

"I don't see why that's any reason not to make fun of them for taking an _eternity_ to finally seal the deal." She grins at her own words, tilting her head back to catch Reade's eye. "Speaking of, who's place do you think they'll go to? Jane's still got her detail, but Weller's got his sister and nephew at home. I don't know which audience is worse, to tell you the truth."

Reade rolls his eyes. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"Oh, come on!" Tasha kicks at one of his feet as they turn. "Don't be so boring. You have to have a guess. Or at least an opinion. If you were Weller—"

"If _I_ were Weller, I wouldn't be talking to _you_ about this, how's that?"

Zapata sighs. "Fair point, I guess. Weller's about as open as a clam." She's quiet for a blessed second. And then— "I don't really know what I'd choose, though, if I were in Jane's position. You know, on the one hand, sucks to have your first sexual encounter written about in an FBI surveillance log. I mean, great for posterity's sake and all but—" She scrunches her nose in distaste. "No thank you. On the other hand, though, I also don't want a nine-year-old asking me at breakfast if I'm going to be his new auntie."

Reade doesn't rise to the bait, as he knows Tasha wants him to, and Tasha sighs heavily. "God, you're so boring." She tries her best to peer over his shoulder, to no avail. "Well?" she asks him. "Are they done sucking face yet? Can I go back to the table?"

"Hm..." Reade surveys the two. They're still very much wrapped around each other. "Better give 'em a second."

Tasha groans. "I'm not gonna wait all night, Reade. You know how I feel about dancing. And besides—"

"Oh, never mind, you're good to go. They finally came back to earth."

Tasha grins, but doesn't immediately pull away. She squeezes Reade's shoulder in excitement. "Wait, you gotta tell me—who's redder with embarrassment? 'Cause Jane's got that pale face, but if you get Weller at the right moment—and trust me, it can happen—that face of his can get _red_ —"

"Jane, I'd say," Reade answers. "Though if I had to guess, I think it's less due to embarrassment and more due to lack of oxygen," he adds, to which Zapata snickers.

The song finishes up, and they break apart, Zapata all but running back to the table. They meet Patterson halfway there, coming back in from her call, and she frowns at the sight of them.

"Aw, man—I missed the _dancing_? What gives!"

"Wasn't just dancing you missed," Zapata teases with a wink, ducking out of the way when Reade tries to smack her arm.

"What—" Patterson starts to ask, but before Tasha can say anything else, Reade takes the blonde's hand and pulls her away from the table. "C'mon, Patterson. I'll dance with you."

He watches Tasha out of the corner of his eye as he heads with Patterson back to the dance floor, watching carefully as she slides back into the booth across from Jane and Kurt, who subtly try to shift a little further apart from each other. Reade holds back a sigh, sending them both a silent apology in the face of what he's sure will be merciless teasing from his partner. He'd go and save them, but, he figures, better it be just Zapata and not _both_ Zapata and Patterson piling on.

"What are you looking at?" Patterson asks, laughing a little when Reade twitches at being caught out.

"Nothing," he mutters, turning back to her with a smile. "Just Zapata."

"Is she making trouble again?" Patterson peers over his shoulder back at the table.

"She's always making trouble, you know that."

Patterson smiles. "We better save 'em from her clutches, huh?" And before Reade can say anything else, she yells out Kurt's name. The table breaks off in conversation, all heads turning to the blonde.

"Well?" Patterson calls out to him. "Aren't you ever going to ask Jane to dance? Or are you two just going to hide in the corner all night and make out like nobody can see you?"

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 _ **A/N**_ _: This was supposed to just be a cute little Reade/Zapata friendship fic. And then of course J &K snuck their way in there. Hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading! :)_


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